


Half Lies

by spockina



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Heartache, M/M, SO SAD, Sad, Secret Relationship, closeted Chris, out Zach, that kinda stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 03:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2636537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spockina/pseuds/spockina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh, the lies we tell ourselves, the lives we don't live, the things we don't do. A secret is a blessing, and it is curse... but so is love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! It's been a while, I know. Then again, is not like I've been having a lot of fun, lately, so I do what I can. Anyways, on with stuff about the story! This is me doing my share of a personal favorite: RPF! Well, it's more of a guilty pleasure, but still. Also, since I apparently don't know how to write stuff that isn't angst by nature, this is... well, angsty. What can I do. The stuff pretty much writes itself, I'm not gonna argue with it (because I'm gonna lose, anyway). OK, so, this is Chris and Zach because sole reasons of 1) YES and 2) why the fuck not. I honestly just love reading and writing those two. OH, JUST... I've been told I have a penchant for making an extremely girly and fragile Chris, so forgive me RIGHT NOW if that's the case in this little story, but I mostly can't help myself. Lil Pine Pie is just a cute lil butt and I can't do anything about it. Disclaimer for all my beta-ing still stands from other works: I edit everything with Word and a website because I'm a shy fuck who's scared of other people's judgement. Sorry.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Love,
> 
> Spockina.

_

“I don’t want you to do that.”

It is a lie. Such a blatant lie, whispered on the quiet crack of dawn to the back of a neck, the air around them still cool and light. It is a lie, and they both know it.

"But I want to."

That’s only a half lie. It’s only a half lie, and only half of them know about it. The other half thinks it’s a whole lie. It isn’t. Only a half lie.

The sun is slowly working its way up, and they can see it through the see-through chiffon-curtains of the bedroom. There’s a light gleam coming in, and they are too lazy to move, and too awaken to bother with the light invading their space.

But it’s quiet, they are still in a neutral zone – that comprises a room arranged into a kitchen and bedroom, and a bathroom, just big enough to have them and what belongs to them – and they are supposed to be taking advantage of it. Deep down they know that, after today, it’s no longer a neutral zone, but neither of them are going to admit to this fact. It’s going to leave a bittersweet taste every time and they won’t talk about it. After all, it is their neutral zone, and it’s going to continue this way if they have to die for it.

“You don’t have to give everything up for me. I don’t need all that much. I’m a humble man.”

The voice is not a whisper anymore; it’s just low, now. He either puts force on what he’s saying or he won’t believe it himself, and he _needs_ to believe. Is he an actor or is he not? Yes, he is. A good at one at it, in fact. He does what he has to do.

They are pressed close together, back to front, touching everywhere, flaccid dick to firm ass, head using bicep as pillow, legs a beautiful tangle in the mess of sheets of their neutral zone. Feeling heartbeats on neck and wrist and where the head is resting on the arm, the pressure making it pulse firmly. They are pressed together, trying to turn into just one whole being, instead of two symbiotic parts, and the eyes closing can almost be _heard_.

 

“But I want to.”

It’s a whisper, and it’s so real this time, the reality of it raw and exposing and burning.

“I really want to.”

It’s even less than a whisper, now, so soft and sad and _hurting_.

“It’s the only thing I do want, I just… I can’t.”

There’s a suppressed body shudder.

“I’m sorry I’ve failed.”

 

Arms close around body _tight_. It’s just by luck that they aren’t _one_. He’s just two inches taller, and he’s also much slender in comparison to his slightly buffer lover, but right now if God himself descended to Earth he wouldn’t give out a sense of security stronger than he does – and this is not to say that they believe in God, because they don’t (care).

“I don’t want you to. I want you just the way you are. We are not horny teenagers, but we are secret. Our secrecy is what I live for. I live to love you even if just in secret. I don’t really care. You’ve got a whole deal on the line. I never had. I was never a panty-magnet. I don’t care.”

The speech is beautiful, and he means it, he means all of it, he wants to mean it. No. He knows that the right thing is to mean it. He really doesn’t care. He does want him to. He says nothing more.

Silence descends upon them and who was to say, all those years back, that a consistent system of fucking when they were lonely would have led to where they are now? If anyone did say, they would never have believed them anyways.

And now here they are. There is silence, and there are tears, and the sudden realization, from both sides of this whole, that things spun out of control long, long ago, and they are only now realizing it because they are only now talking about something they weren’t supposed to talk about in the first place.

This is their neutral zone; they are not supposed to talk about anything _outside_.

Tears wet arm, and he is such a crier. He cries for any given thing; it would be an offense if he didn’t cry now. He’s crying, and it’s hurting; it’s _burning_ his nose and the side of his right eye as they roll down and then roll again quietly down the arm until they reach the mattress and die. He’s crying quietly, and he never trusted anyone to see him cry – even when he is a self-proclaimed weeper – and right now it’s an act of self-giving and they know it. He’s giving away the only thing no one has ever seen before and it’s something so mundane; he’s just crying. But now he’s given, and there’s no turning back.

The sun is up and high and mighty, not just coming in but barging in with authority, claiming space in their bedroom and clear eyes close to protect themselves from the force of the light. Brown ones are intent on the hair in the back of the head.

There is silence.

Tears dry in the face, and in the arm, and in the mattress. They don’t fall asleep and they don’t move an inch. It’s so heavy and it’s suddenly so real. It’s their last day and then who knows for how long they won’t be able to come back home. _Home_. Their neutral zone, where everything is theirs and is them.

The silence is thick like butter, and humor is a fine knife.

“I love you.”

“I know.”

It takes just a second, and then he is laughing.

 

“You’re so smug!”

Laughter so beautiful and rich and pure. He twists, turning into the embrace, facing those beautiful brown eyes he loves so much.

“No idea why I put up with you.”

He smiles, blue eyes shining with tears unshed and love uncontained.

 

He receives a smile back that is so pure it almost breaks his heart all over again.

 

“You put up with me because I love you.”

Brown eyes lock blue ones down. There is no escaping from reality.

“You put up with me because I love you through and through, where no one has before.”

He seeks because he needs to. He needs silent and unspoken reassurance.

“You put up with me because you love me.”

 

His reward is a beautifully shy, and yet, so unguarded (and how is he both? He is a miracle) smile from beautiful, plump lips.

“I see no flaws in your explanation.”

They kiss.

They kiss for hours on end; they kiss for what feels like forever and not enough; they kiss until they are panting without oxygen; and they kiss for what feels like the first and last time. They kiss like they always do.

The sun is completely forgotten outside, while they lose themselves in the ways they know so well. They avoid talking. They pretend they are both being really tactile and subtle about it, and don’t talk.

They don’t talk about the children they are never having, or the wannabe-actress one of them is not dating, or the model the other of them _is_ dating, or the trips they will never take together, or the family gatherings they are not attending with each other. They don’t talk about how miserable they are. Don’t talk about how much they’re hurting, and suffering, and they don’t talk about the depression that is always around the corner, just one step away from them – if in front of or behind, they don’t know. They don’t talk about it, they’ve already ruined their neutral zone and much as it can take.

And if they don’t talk about it, they blame it on the clock ticking; they claim kissing is so much better; they say (not out loud) that it’s not worth it, and what is, is.

They fall asleep for the last time together, holding on to each other tight like a vice, with the strength of a loving heart living on counted time.

When they leave in the morning, each looking miserable and feeling broken, they say nothing, sharing the briefest of the kisses in the garage, slipping on sunglasses and pocketing their keys without farewells, each getting into their cars and driving away with a pain in the chest that feels like magnetism pulling them to the other, and they have to wait until next time.

They are so far away. They look idly around, thinking all the things never spoken, always with the renewed fear of next time. Next time is too far away. Next time when maybe one of them fell in love with someone else. Next time when maybe one of them decides they have had enough. Next time when maybe there isn’t anyone else or they haven’t had enough but there simply isn’t the love. Next time is too far away. They are so far away.

Still, they wait expectantly for synced schedules and free days. They long for home, and for lazy days in their neutral zone with their beautiful lies. Lies they live for and live with. Lies they need to have in order to keep going on. Their half lies.


End file.
